


Express Narration

by writing_ramblings



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cute, Fluff, M/M, Varric is a good wingman at the end of the day, yes another barista DA2 au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 19:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing_ramblings/pseuds/writing_ramblings
Summary: There's a new barista in Hawke's favorite coffee shop and the poor guy seems tired and full of demanding customers, but Varric's natural gift for narrating things might have made the guy's day and hooked him up with his best friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this back around when I wrote my last DA2 fic, but completely forgot about it. I reread it and thought it was cute and couldn't believe I didn't post it. It also made me miss this pairing so much and I'm sorry for those who wanted a second part to 'Easy Money', I still think about it, but it hasn't felt right yet. Hope you enjoy this in the meantime :)

The line reaches the door when Hawke steps into it, allowing the glass to bounce against his body and he awkwardly tries to remain in one spot without bumping with the client in front of him. Luckily, they move and he isn’t blocking the entrance for more than 5 seconds.

It’s six in the morning, it’s a cold Monday; of course more people would be lining up for coffee. It wasn’t just his thing. Yet he hoped the place wouldn’t be so packed. The weekend had been easy and he had his time to put out a few lines to the barista serving him. But with the rush and how busy he looked behind the counter, Hawke wouldn’t think about striking up a conversation.

The barista looks tired already; he feels for the guy and his dim green eyes. Just last night they sparkled like a forest under moonlight. It’s the third time he has served the same man his coffee and he keeps finding something wrong with it. Hawke looks back to more people piling up behind him, a never ending queue.

A woman with the same apron and uniform appears after the barista calls for her. Her apron tightly around her waist, white polo contrasting against her dark skin and darker hair styled to the side in a messy braid.

She seems to drop a few lines on the man while Hawke’s favorite barista serves him a fourth cup. Before he can say anything else, the woman is saying her goodbyes and calling in the next order. When the man turns his back, both workers smile at each other, the girl sending a wink to the boy. Hawke can’t help the vile taste of jealousy in his stomach; the young woman was beautiful and her eyes could charm anyone, no doubt.

“The handsome man with a chest full of hair approaches the hairy, not as handsome, taller man,” a voice breaks his thoughts. He looks to the right to find brown eyes staring at him and a smile. Light brown hair tied up in a bun. “Hawke frowns to the sight of the shorter man’s dashing good looks. His eyes dart from his chiseled jaw to the few locks of hair peeking out of his shirt.”

“Morning, to you too, Varric.”

“Hawke mumbles as he looks away, not bearing it any longer. The name tasting bittersweet on the tip of his tongue.”

“Please, stop, is too early for this shit.”

“Hawke’s fist clench as his jaw tenses. A morning without coffee is a day in the dessert without a drop of water.”

Hawke says nothing back, but half a smile forms and it goes unnoticed by his beard, making Varric miss it and adding a description of how it can make the sun jealous or some symbolic writer narration.

“The handsome hero and his tank of a sidekick approach the counter after time seemed to have stopped.” Varric continues when there’s only one person between them and the counter. “Hawke spots the barista’s dreamy, emerald eyes and his heart pounds in his chest. Rattling his ribcage to the point of breaking.”

His heart did beat stronger, but because he had forgotten Varric knew about his little crush, who was standing a couple of feet away from them.

Varric examines his friend’s face, “everything in the coffee shop goes silence. He wants to move, but his feet have gone numb under Coffee Boy’s gaze.”

The barista raises an eyebrow as the client before them steps aside, there’s no doubt he heard that last bit. Hawke clears his throat and manages to move without tripping on his feet like he almost did the first time he saw the boy with light brown skin, decorated in elegant white tattoos and white, almost silver hair. “What… can I get you today?” The barista tries to continue as normal as possible.

“Expresso with whip cream, please.”

“Hawke spills the words with sweaty palms and flushed cheeks.” Varric’s narration earns another brow raise from the barista. “Coffee Boy wonders why a stranger looks at him like a lost puppy, asking for a warm home in his arms.”

“Will that be all?”

“Yes!”

“Hake blurts out. His nerves are a wreck. He’s worried he’ll scare the barista before he can let him know how cute—no, how dreamy he thinks he is. How his coffee his better than anyone’s he’s ever tried. How his eyes brighten his day and clears the skies of rains.”

The barista is taken aback and his eyes land on Hawke who looks down as he pulls out his wallet. He misses the small smile on the corner of his lips, but Varric winks at the kid.

Their hands brush in the exchange of the money, but Hawke is too petrified to notice and he’s sure Varric will tell him later how the skin in his arm raised in goosebumps and his fingertips trembled to the touch. Their hands cross paths once more when the barista gives him his recipe and Hawke quickly moves out of the way to wait.

It has been days since the new barista caught his attention and he’s always glad to wait, but now he wanted the earth to swallow him. For hot, scorching coffee to fall on him and melt him into a puddle.

“Garret,” the boy’s soft tone calls, already staring at him.

“There was nobody else in the room, except for the two strangers, who looked at each other like lovers meeting again in another life, after death had torn them apart.”

“I swear to the gods, Varric,” Hawke growls before he steps forward. He tells himself he won’t look at the barista, he will resist, or pretend nothing is happening. But once his hand wraps around the warm cup, he’s caught in the trap and stares at the eyes that have been haunting his sleepless nights. “Thanks.” He mumbles before he turns, not caring if Varric follows.

He’s out of the shop in a heartbeat and swallowing his drink in big gulps, ignoring the heat. He needs something to feel other than embarrassment.

“What would you do without me?” Varric asks, stepping behind him.

“I could think of many reasons I could do!” Not be embarrassed for starters.

“You’re lucky I was here, chuckles,” Varric tilts his head and points at Hawke’s coffee. The man sighs with a hint of frustration before he gives in and turn his cut. There’s a name written on it, not his, _Fenris_ , done in a quick swift and thin ink. Underneath, a line of numbers are combined.

“You can thank me later, when we’re out for drinks.” Varric winks and starts walking by himself, knowing Hawke needs a few seconds to adjust to what had happened and if it’s really happening or not. “Just don’t invite me to the first date,” he turns around to say before continuing his way. “I don’t need to narrate that.”


End file.
